


with your nose so bright

by nayt0reprince



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M, Post-December Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 01:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nayt0reprince/pseuds/nayt0reprince
Summary: mishima doesn’t have a good track record with christmas.





	with your nose so bright

**Author's Note:**

> i am a very tired boy tonight, but y’all deserve a present (even if it’s like last-minute bc i totes forgot to write something for today lol sorry sorry), so here we go. merry belated winter solstice y’all

The last time it snowed on Christmas in Tokyo, Mishima was all but a grade schooler, standing beneath a lamppost as his dad’s filched watch tick-tick-tocked by his bedtime. He squinted as 8PM became 9, knees buckling together from the frigidity encasing the city in a sheen layer of ice. The clouds billowed thick overhead, spitting out snow like a teasing child blowing a raspberry. Despite the weather, however, he waited - not anxiously (not admittedly anxiously), of course, because that would be lame - and jostled the little tiny wrapped box in his too-big winter coat.

9:15, he fixed his scarf to cover his reddened nose ( _you know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen_ ).

9:17, he readjusted his snow-encrusted mittens ( _Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen_ ).

9:20, he checked to make sure the present was still there, still waiting to be taken to a new, ever-distant home ( _but, do you recall--_ ).

Come 9:30, with sulken shoulders and bitter, rehearsed stammerings of a confession on his tongue, he knew she wasn’t going to show up. It happened every year-- _every_ year--and he still fell for it. He fell for their kind words, stumbled into their elaborate pranks of leaving him to stand outside like a moron waiting for nobody to arrive, and he had no one to blame but himself.

He threw away the present upon returning home, and carefully, quietly, returned his dad’s watch back onto the counter. No one was awake in the house; they probably didn’t bother to check if he was in his room or not. With a heavy sigh and heart, he shuffled up to his room, and did not cry for the rest of the night. The reason for the dark circles under his eyes, he lied to his classmates, was being too excited to sleep out of anticipation for gifts he never got.

He learned to dread Christmas from that point on.

(-- _the most forgettable reindeer of all?_ )

*

Christmas Eve in his second year of high school proved to go a little differently than any other year: the apocalypse happened and then didn’t, high schoolers killed a god with the power of maybe-Satan(?), and Mishima actually got a group of people to pay attention to him in his last desperate hurrah to try to save the city from completely turning into a manufacturer's defect of a lab skeleton. Three miracles in one day, and he dared not to push his luck in hoping for a fourth, yet it happened anyhow.

It came with a buzz in his pocket as he peered up at the redless sky, puffs of air escaping his lips while his mind reeled from what just happened. Did it happen? Everything in the district seemed so normal now. Buzz, buzz. His palm absentmindedly swatted at his pocket. Buzz, buzz. The Phantom Thieves just broadcasted God’s demise on the jumbotron and everyone was talking about the iPhone X or whichever latest and not greatest Apple product just got released instead. Buzz, buzz. He swiped at the screen without really paying attention until he saw the name:

**Ren:** I want to see you.

Despite the cold, Mishima’s hands broke out into sweat, fumbling the phone and almost dropping it onto the concrete after reading the message. He stared at it so long his eyes nearly crossed, snowflakes melting on the screen one by one by one. 

**Mishima:** Did you mean to send this to someone else?

**Ren:** I want to see you.

**Ren:** Wait hold on

**Ren:** Stay right where you are a sec

**Mishima:** ?

“Yuuki.”

A gloved hand patted his shoulder. His heart leapt into his throat, almost involuntarily choking himself to death, before inching his head to turn around in slow, steady increments. Behind him, a teetering, tired Ren gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach those typically mischievous eyes. Oh. Oh, it wasn’t--it wasn’t a joke, much to Mishima’s surprise, or a mistake. He returned the smile, albeit hesitantly.

“You look awful,” he managed to say, pocketing his phone. “Shouldn’t you be home and in bed or something?”

“Where’s your jacket?” Ren deflected.

“My--?” Mishima blinked, and the cold assailed him all at once. Adrenaline’s jitters at last wore off, leaving him confused and shivering. “What do you know,” he answered with a half-hearted laugh, “guess I left it back at the house. Whoops.”

Ren shrugged his coat off and draped it over Mishima’s shoulders. He started to protest, but Ren pushed his forefinger to Mishima’s mouth, shushing him. His gaze shifted elsewhere, as though lost in thought, before shaking his head. 

“I did,” he said. Mishima tilted his head, puzzled, before Ren elaborated, “Hear you, I mean. I heard you. I came here to tell you that.”

Mishima sucked in a sharp, embarrassed breath before looking away. Ren’s coat was warm and a bit too large. “Oh, that? That wasn’t anything, really.”

“Idiot.” Ren flicked his forehead. Mishima protested with a whine, but it became suffocated by two hands greedily smooshing his cheeks and bruised lips mashing against his own. The kiss was sloppy--teeth knocked together, the angle was wrong--but Mishima couldn’t compute any of those minor details. Nails tickled the back of his neck, Ren tasted like copper, his nose was red from the cold ( _rudolph, with your nose so bright, won’t you slay some gods tonight_ ), his tousled hair needed to be brushed, Mishima forgot how to breathe and stopped himself from wheezing before pulling away.

“What,” he sputtered, grip tightening around Ren’s shoulders (when did he grab his shoulders), “what was that?”

“My selfishness, I guess. I’m not above being greedy, you know. And it’s not like I have a lot of time to act like I used to.”

Ren’s words remained careful, tip-toeing as though Mishima couldn’t see right through the implications. Before he could retort, Ren continued,

“I gave you a present, so I wanted one back. Think of it like that.”

“A present?”

Ren stepped back once, then twice. A person, then two, walked between them, and before Mishima realized, Ren was gone. He gaped dazedly as the crowds swallowed Ren up, never spitting him back out, never returning him. Duh, a present. Ren gave him a coat. Mishima gave him (kinda) a kiss. His face burned. His sluggish brain finally produced one coherent thought ( _go after him_ ), but it was far, far too late. He was left alone again; another cruel prank played by the universe rather than “joking” classmates. Instead, he pulled out his phone with shaking hands, trying not to think of Ren’s cryptic intentions. He had one new notification:

**Ren:** Merry Christmas.

_And you’re calling_ me _the idiot?_

**Mishima:** Are you going to explain yourself or what?

Ren never responded. The next day, he went to jail for some bullshit system to get that wretched senator the punishment he deserved. He didn’t know until around noon, when Christmas morning’s splendor worn off but Ren’s scent still clung to the coat and Mishima’s shoulders. He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth as the news broke out on every news station.

He hated Christmas more now, even after having received the best present he never imagined getting - only to have it taken away soon after.

*

(At least, come Valentine’s, Mishima got his present back, adorned with ribbons on a box of homemade chocolates and a whispered, “I like you.” It almost made up for it. Almost.)


End file.
